Second Place
by controlled climb
Summary: Ginny fell head over heels for Harry. But when he doesn't feel the same way Hermione suggests she moves on and sees other guys. But can she really ever get over the boy she fell in love with?


**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

I fell in love. Everyone always told me that girl's don't really trip over themselves when they fall in love. But I did. I went completely crazy. Make up was constantly staining my dresser and clothes lay sprawled across the floor. Every time he talked to me it took everything inside me to stop myself from spluttering and stuttering through the conversation. Sometimes I didn't even hear the conversation, and simply smiled, getting lost in his emerald eyes. He never noticed when I drifted off, he would just keep talking. In a way, I suppose that's a good thing.

It took me years to figure out he didn't feel anything for me. He only thought of me as a little sister, or worse, his best friend's little sister. Hermione Granger. She was great, perhaps the best friend I've ever had. She was the one who advised I see other guys. I had been livid at the time, screaming that she didn't understand what I was going through. She did though, and when I came to my senses I apologized. I ended up taking her advice too.

"Hermione!" I called out happily. She turned to me, her brown hair flying in all directions. She smiled at me, waiting patiently as I bounded towards her. "I'm going out with Michael," I gushed. My smile faded as hers fell though.

"That's great, Ginny." She recovered quickly, forcing a grin on her face and pulling me into a hug. I gave her a quizzical glance, and she sighed in defeat. "I just didn't think you'd take my advice so quickly." She gave a hearty laugh, and began pressing me for details. I told her everything. Well, almost everything. I left out the part that I wished with all my might that it were Harry that had asked me out, not Michael.

"You aren't really happy with this, are you?" Hermione looked me up and down, a sad look on her face. Tears threatened to slip as I shook my head. She sighed. I could practically hear the thoughts running through her mind. That this was her fault, that she shouldn't have given me that advice.

"I'll get over Harry," I murmured, desperately hoping that my voice wouldn't break. "You were right, this will help me."

"Maybe," she looked hopefully at me. "It'll get him to see you in a different light."

I grinned at her, knowing that she was right. She had always been the smart one. If anything, this whole thing would hopefully make Harry notice me as something other than his best friend's little sister.

I began being a lovesick teenager after that. I wore mascara, and quickly learnt how to apply other make up. I stressed for hours, pulling a brush through my hair more times than need, hoping that my fiery locks would do what I wanted them to. I paid more attention to my wardrobe, never stepping out of my room unless my outfit was perfect.

Hermione noticed this change and took to complimenting me often, though she put her foot down if I ever mentioned the words 'make-over' to her. In ways I was jealous. She seemed so happy, so content, without even trying. I knew for a fact she liked, maybe loved, my git of an older brother. I don't know how, but she was happy simply being one of his best friends.

"Why do you do that?" I snapped. "Settle for second place?"

"I wish I didn't," Hermione muttered, watching in disgust as Ron begun eating Lavender's face. I wanted to fling myself in between the two and pull Ron off viciously. How could he miss something that had always been right there? "Let's go," she hissed, dragging me out of the common room with her.

"I'm sorry," I said. I couldn't think of what else to say. She looked devastated. She smiled weakly at me, shrugging it off. Hermione was like that. Even if it killed her she would make sure he got his happily ever after, whether it was with her or not. I felt sorry for her. I knew how she felt. I felt the same way the day I found out that Harry had asked Cho Chang to the Yule Ball. Lost, maybe even worthless.

"Are you going to Slughorn's dinner?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence. A grin formed on her face as I nodded. This wasn't going to be good.

Hermione spent hours helping me get ready. She tolerated me as I threw a wild fit, when I claimed that I had nothing decent to wear. Instead of scolding me, like she usually would have, she fished through her own suitcases, throwing a few dresses at me. I gaped at her. She wasn't a dress sort of girl, and I never would have guessed that she would be the one to have dresses under her bed. She smiled; gesturing towards the dresses sprawled across the bed, telling me to take my pick. She helped me with my hair as well, patiently straightening it, the muggle way. I had asked why she didn't just use a spell on it, but she had smiled weakly admitting that she didn't know any. This caused me to laugh; it wasn't often that she didn't know the spell for something.

"You go on," I protested, for what seemed to be the tenth time. "I'll see you there in about ten minutes."

I was finally ready. Hermione hadn't been too worried about looking good, and had just done a quick touch up. She looked doubtful about leaving me, but I insisted. For some reason, time alone seemed to be something I dearly wanted. I sat quietly on her bed, staring around the room. What was wrong with me? I had completely trashed her room in my attempts to look perfect. Hermione's room being messy wasn't a normal sight. I was obsessed. Suddenly it occurred to me. I was being pathetic. I was becoming one of those girls that I had always laughed at in secret.

I stood, determined. I wouldn't let Harry Potter get to me. I would stand tall, and be myself. He wouldn't take away my personality. I wasn't going to wither away, waiting for him to ask me out. Hermione might be intent with waiting for Ron, but there was no way in hell that I was going to sit back and do nothing.

Harry stood as I entered the room. I gazed at him in shock, before smiling at Hermione.

"Sorry for being late, Professor," I said, turning to face Professor Slughorn. He didn't seem fazed, and gestured for me to take the spare seat. I had only arrived in time for dessert, and avoided catching Hermione's eye. Though she was decent enough not to mention anything when I walked in, I knew she would be dying to know why my 'ten minutes' had turned into half an hour.

"Very nice thanks, I think Harry rather enjoyed dessert," I heard Hermione mumble to Ron, after he asked how the dinner was. I was half way up the stairs, and almost collapsed with laughter. I waited on the step for Hermione to come up. Only a few moments later, we were both sitting on her bed, and I told her my decision.

"I'm tired of waiting," I moaned.

"Ron will be livid," Hermione responded. "But yes, I do think you'd be doing the right thing."

"Not being so bloody –"

"Obsessive," Hermione interjected. She had known I was going to say something about one hundred times worse than that, and I didn't take offense.

I fell in love with Harry Potter. I was stupid, like any other girl, and made a fool of myself. I never did stick by my promise to myself. I did wait. I waited so damn long. For the time being, I was stuck in second place.


End file.
